


Just Friends

by SallyLovette



Category: Lackadaisy (Webcomic)
Genre: Arguing, F/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyLovette/pseuds/SallyLovette
Summary: They leave early when the place is raided.





	Just Friends

They ask if they can touch his scar. With two hands nestled in the crook of his arm, Ivy watches him lean down, smiling brightly, so they can reach. “Be my guest.”

A chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” ensues. Then one of them lays a flirtatious hand on his cheek. “You’re too cute to be a gangster.” He laughs nervously, but, luckily, Ivy comes to his rescue.

“All right, ladies, pack it in. He’s my boyfriend, remember.”

They tease her. She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Rocky. You can buy me a drink.”

He waits until they’re out of earshot before cheerfully telling her, “I don’t have any money.”

“Obviously.” You’d hardly be here otherwise, she doesn’t say, but Rocky catches her drift. If he had to confess, he doesn’t mind doing her this favor (pretending to be her boyfriend, that is). She’s nice, and her friends are nice, and the place they’re at is nice, even if he doesn’t drink, and turns her down politely when she offers.

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “I don’t like the taste.”

“Oh, come on. You’ll have one.”

They go back and forth for a while, and, since Ivy is Ivy, he winds up with a beer in his hand, but, since Rocky is Rocky, he doesn’t drink it— just hands it off to a stranger when her back is turned. “Why couldn’t you just get Freckle to do this?”

“He didn’t want to. Plus, he doesn’t have your... well, I don’t wanna say charisma, but—”

_“Non compos mentis?”_

In spite of herself, she has to smile, her glass pausing just shy of her mouth. “Something like that.”

He thinks about saying “we should do this again sometime,” but just then she glances down at his empty hands, and his guard goes up as it seems, for a moment, she’s going to tell him off, but instead, she surprises him unpleasantly. “Was your dad an alcoholic?” Seeing the look on his face, she quickly adds, “er, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t like the taste. That’s all.”

To her credit, she lets it drop for all of five minutes. “Did he ever hit you?”

“Let’s go back to your friends. They can tell me again how I met them— I can’t remember a thing about that night.” He pretends to watch the crowd, avoiding her gaze. “Freckle told me you told him I told you about... stuff.”

She waits with bated breath, but he doesn’t say anything else. Frustrated, she downs the rest of her drink. “You barely told me anything. Y’know, you’re every bit as cagey as he is.”

He grins. “Runs in the family, I suppose.” 

The current song ends and a new one begins, all slow and sappy and romantic. Couples flood the dance floor, but Rocky doesn’t move a muscle, and neither does she. “We should dance,” she sighs, as if she really doesn’t want to, which is very unlike her; Rocky decides to take it as a compliment. “They’re expecting us to.” 

“We don’t have to. Anyway, what does it matter what they expect?” 

“Don’t you get it? The whole reason we’re doing this is to look good. I’m a gangster. I’m dating a gangster. And he and I are going to dance.” She pulls him up. “And at the end, I’m going to kiss you.” 

His smile fades. “Wait— what?” 

“Yup. So be ready. And make it look convincing.”

He resists. “That’ll cost extra.” 

“Fine.” 

He relents. They dance the entire song and at the end, they kiss. It’s convincing, very convincing, as befits two of the most fast-thinking minds in St. Louis. They have a lot in common, like that.

 

*

 

The leave early when the place is raided. They run until they can no longer breathe and then some, but don’t get far, mainly due to the fact that Ivy is hammered as a pike. By the end, he’s practically carrying her. “Which way is your school?” 

“Your clothes are blue.” She dissolves into giggles. He dumps her into a park bench and collapses beside her, panting, grinning at the sky. 

“With any luck, you’ll be able to drag my cousin out of his shell.” 

He looks down in surprise as she falls sideways into his lap. “Your cousin, Freckle? He’s history. I broke up with him yesterday.” 

“What? Really? Why?” 

Her smile fades. She sits up, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I think... I think he’s...” She falters, glancing cautiously at him. “You can’t ever tell him I told you. But I think he’s into boys.” 

“Oh.” He stops smiling, lowers his gaze to the street. “Right.” 

“I think he likes you.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“You know what?” Ivy reaches into her purse and pulls out the money she owes him— five dollars, plus another five for the kiss— but doesn’t give it to him, just holds it up for him to see. It gives him a sudden bad feeling. “I bet your dad was an alcoholic.” 

“So what?” 

“I bet he would have beat the shit out of you if he knew you were gay. I bet he would have kicked you out of the house.” 

Rocky stands up to walk away, but she gets up and follows him. “Wait.” 

“Just leave me alone.” 

“I’m sorry. Here.” She takes his wrist, stopping him, and puts the money into his hand, but he doesn’t care about it anymore. He just wants to leave. 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, listen. I’m sorry.” She puts a hand on his shoulder and leans up on tip-toes to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry your dad hates queers.” 

He’s silent for a moment. Then he yanks his wrist away and steps back. “Well I’m sorry your friends are all fakers. And I’m sorry your crush didn’t work out. And I’m sorry your dad doesn’t care about you.” 

“That’s not true!” 

She can’t even walk a straight line. If he storms off now she’s definitely going to get arrested. _Dammit._ “Why do you have to get in everyone’s business? Mine, Freckle’s, Viktor’s... worry about yourself for once.” 

“My life is perfect.” 

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself.” 

“I’m not, firstly, and secondly, you’re one to talk.” She pushes him in the chest. “You boyfriend-stealer.” 

“What?” He almost has to laugh. “You’re saying I stole Freckle from you? That’s crazy.” 

“You’re crazy.”

There’s no point in arguing there, and they both know it. Rocky takes advantage of the sudden silence to find a cab and put her inside. He’s about to close the door, but something gives him pause. She’s sitting there, slumped against the opposite side, shoes in her hand, purse hugged to her chest, and she looks so sad and lonely, he feels it would be heartless to let the night end this way. He gets inside. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can talk to him if you want. I didn’t mean to... to do that thing you said I did.” 

“It’s okay. It wouldn’t have worked out, anyway. I think I need someone more like me— not so shy, y’know? Someone who can dance.” 

He smiles. “That’s not so much to ask. Plenty of guys like that in St. Louie. You just gotta pick one.” 

“Maybe I will.” They stare at each other. Then she laughs and shoves him. “Get out of my cab, Rocky.” 

“Sure. Getting out.”


End file.
